ying him was so difficult to
face that it seemed to involve impossibilities. He himself had warned
her that marriage would mean severance from all her kindred. It was
practically true, and time would only increase the difficulty of such a
determination.

The very fact that her love (again, if love it were) must be indulged
in defiance of universal opinion tended to keep emotion alive. A woman
is disposed to cling to a lover who has disgraced himself, especially
if she can believe that the disgrace was incurred as a result of
devotion to her. Could love be separated from thought of marriage,
Sidwell would have encouraged herself in fidelity, happy in the
prospect of a life-long spiritual communion--for she would not doubt of
Godwin's upward progress, of his eventual purification. But this was a
mere dream. If Godwin's passion were steadfast, the day would come when
she must decide either to cast in her lot with his, or to bid him be
free. And could she imagine herself going forth into exile?

There came a letter from him, and she was fortunate enough to receive
it without the knowledge of her relatives. He wrote that he had
obtained employment. The news gave her a troubled joy, lasting for
several days. That no emotion appeared in her reply was due to a fear
lest she might be guilty of misleading him. Perhaps already she had
done so. Her last whisper--'Some day!'--was it not a promise and an
appeal? Now she had not the excuse of profound agitation, there must be
no word her conscience could not justify. But in writing those formal
lines she felt herself a coward. She was drawing back--preparing her
escape.

Often she had the letter beneath her pillow. It was the first she had
ever received from a man who professed to love her. So long without
romance in her life, she could not but entertain this semblance of it,
and feel that she was still young.

It told much in Godwin's favour that he had not ventured to write
before there was this news to send her. It testified to the force of
his character, the purity of his purpose. A weaker man, she knew, would
have tried to excite her compassion by letters of mournful strain,
might even have distressed her with attempts at clandestine meeting.
She had said rightly--his nature was not base. And she loved him! She
was passionately grateful to him for proving that her love had not been
unworthily bestowed.

When he wrote again, her answer should not be cowardly.

The life of